SWEATS It's a Fanfiction Crusade
by persephone56
Summary: Strange things are happening at Hogwarts. (Though, aren't they always) Hermione encounters them all, and a new political movement is started...
1. SWEATS

/Standard disclaimer and all... I own none of J.K.Rowling's characters or her wonderful wizarding world, nor do I own any of the Very Bad Things that are about to happen... you've seen them before.../

S.W.E.AT.S.  
Chapter 1

"Oh! Raido makes sense."

Hermione Granger put the finishing touches on her Ancient Runes assignment, wishing for the thousandth time that she wasn't the _only_ person at Hogwarts taking Ancient Runes.

It was the beginning of her seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Hermione was sitting on the plush couch by the fire in her new common room, doing her homework. _Fascinating subject, Runes_. /A/N: Yes, we know, Hermione. Anyway/ She had been made Head Girl that year, and along with all the responsibilities that entailed came the privilege of having her own room that shared a common room with the Head Boy. She missed Gryffindor Tower, to be sure, sitting with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, her two best friends, chatting and playing wizard's chess into the night. But she didn't miss being kept awake by Lavender and Parvati's inane giggling and never having any quiet time to herself. (Even though they'd shown her at the end of her third year how to style her chocolate-brown hair curly instead of bushy and she was feeling much prettier now, she still didn't miss them.) Having her own room was perfect, except...

"Blaise, darling, can't you leave me alone for once?" a voice drawled from near the portrait-hole.

Except for Draco Malfoy.

Draco, as the Head Boy, shared this cozy little suite with her. Draco, whom she hated and who returned her hate with the deepest of intensity. Putting the two of them together like this was like oil and water, vinegar and baking soda, Snape and shampoo, leather and libraries...

_Oh wait, no, that one's not so bad._

/ Draco/Hermione Shippers: (punch air) /  
/ WIKTTers: Oh really/  
/ Everyone else: (in a whiny voice) Is it going to be this kind of story? (groan) /  
/ A/N: Just wait! ;) /

Well, _anyway_, what should have been a great setup for Hermione now put her in contact with the Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy—much more than what was advisable for her health.

"It's really not the best time for you to be like this," Draco's voice drawled.

Hermione peeked out over the back of the couch. Draco had brought a blonde girl into the common room, well, more like _she_ followed _him_in like a sick puppy, and he was trying to push her away, his mercury eyes flashing dangerously.

"But, Draco..."

"No 'buts' Blaise, I have important things to do."

_Blaise? Wait a minute... Blaise Zabini? Blaise is a boy. I think I've been studying runes too hard tonight..._ Hermione thought.

While Hermione pondered the identity of Blaise Zabini, and twirled her long, curly, cinnamony hair, she covertly watched as Draco was coaxed into his bedroom by his guest.

_Oh well. Maybe Blaise has been hitting the Polyjuice Potion. I hear the Malfoys like that sort of thing_.

* * *

An hour later, as Hermione was wrapping up her Care of Magical Creatures essay on shapeshifters, Blaise emerged from Draco's room, running her hands through her long, shiny, golden-red hair with lavender highlights. Fortunately, she didn't notice Hermione sitting on the couch, and slipped out through the portrait hole. 

_This makes no sense! I saw Blaise yesterday in Potions. HE has dark hair and is definitely a boy. Definitely! This person is not him... Wait, wasn't she blonde earlier?_

As Hermione chewed her lip innocently and considered the befuddling person who left her common room, Draco sauntered in, wearing nothing but silk black pajama bottoms. The firelight caused his silvery locks to glow. _Lavender has always said that he looks like a fallen angel_, Hermione thought. _What a ridiculous comparison! It's so_ very _cliché. He doesn't fit Milton's description at all. And I know the truth about Malfoy..._

"You really need to work hard don't you Granger? I mean, wizarding subjects just don't come as easy to mudbloods, do they?"

Hermione, used to such insults, ignored him. It wasn't worth getting upset over.

"Who was that?" she demanded, changing the subject and pushing her shiny brown curls out of her face. She knew she shouldn't delve into his private life, because he tended to get violently defensive whenever she did, but her curiosity about the strange girl who'd just left was too great.

"That? That was Blaise Zabini. Don't you pay attention at all, Granger?"

"That was not Blaise. Blaise is tall dark and hand- I mean, male, for one thing."

"Not today. He changes. It's really out of his control. He just goes back and forth from boy to girl all the time..." Draco informed her, but with a distant, quizzical look on his very-aristocratic-looking face.

"That's strange." Hermione observed, rather astutely.

"Yes, no one knows why it happens. It's like there's some invisible being out there still making up their mind about whether Blaise should be a boy or a girl."

Hermione's let her eyes unfocus as she pondered the mystery of Blaise Zabini's gender and completely missed the smirk rising on Draco's pale, pointed face.

"Like what you see, don't you, mudblood?"

"What? Oh!" Hermione blushed as she realized she'd been staring directly at his chest. "Malfoy, _honestly_ , why do you never wear a pajama top around here? It's quite disturbing."

"I always seem to lose them some how. It must be the laundry gnomes stealing them." He said as he settled back into the plush armchair lazily. But he made even lounging about lazily look like he meant it as a fashion statement.

"You mean the gnomes that always take half a pair of socks?" Hermione asked, then started chewing on her quill. She always switched to her quill after she'd chewed her lips to shreds.

"Yeah, those. They seem to like my pajamas for some reason."

"How many – pth!—have you lost?" Hermione asked, spitting out quill feathers. She of course tripped over her words as she was trying to talk and chew at the same time, which really isn't advisable.

"Well, as I have a pajama set for every day of the year,... hundreds, really."

"Honestly!" Hermione said as she stood up to her full height and put her hands on her hips, the mangled quill dangling from her fingertips. "I guess the great Draco Malfoy doesn't mind working all those silk worms to death so he can have a new pajama set every day."

Draco smirked up at her. "Of course not! I couldn't be Sexy!Draco without the proper wardrobe, now could I? And besides, they match my silk sheets." He gestured lazily with his hand toward his bedroom, a malicious look shining from his silvery eyes.

Hermione rolled her eyes. _I'm so not impressed—with his sheets or his eyes that somehow have metallurgical properties_. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

She turned to walk toward her room. She was tired, but her thoughts were running away with her. _Those poor silk worms! Honestly, why can't he just use the standard-issue linens that Hogwarts provides? They're nice enough. S.P.E.W. was such a disaster, but maybe I can make up for it by helping the silk worms. Yes..._

* * *

Later that night, while Hermione and Draco lay in bed 

/A/N: head off shippers at the pass Separate beds! This is a family-friendly story you crazy kids/

/ (ahem) /

while Hermione and Draco each lay in their OWN, SEPARATE beds, with a THICK WALL BETWEEN their rooms, they each pondered the curious fate that is Blaise Zabini's.

Hermione: _I feel kind of sorry for Blaise. What if I woke up as a different person? As Ghetto!Hermione or something awful like that_ (shudder)

Draco: _I wonder who's doing this to Blaise, anyway? It's like a mysterious force out there controlling him, er, her, I mean—which one do I like better anyway_

/ Blaise fanfic writers: (whistle and back away) /

* * *

The next morning, Draco emerged from his room only to find Hermione hunched over the table in the common room, worrying her bottom lip and intent on reading on the parchment in her hand. _Merlin, doesn't she ever stop working? No wonder she has better grades than me... Maybe it's all that lip-biting she does... Yuck, they're bleeding!_

Draco quietly and gracefully crept toward the table, peering over her head to see what she was working on.

Draco/Hermione shippers: (wait on the edge of their seats)

"S.W.E.A.T.S.? Granger, are you starting another ridiculous crusade? What is it this time? Are you going to save the flobberworms from being fed too much lettuce or the Weasleys from having red hair or saving students from rotting their teeth from all the sherbert lemons Albus passes out?"

Hermione: _That's a good idea! Save the Student's Teeth! Nah, I'll work on that title. My parents would be so proud! Let's see, I'll need_...  
endbrief foray into Hermione's POV when this is Draco's POV. As you were, Draco.  
Draco: Thank you.

Hermione turned to face Draco, malice flashing in her pretty brown eyes.

"Yes. All your silk sheets and pajamas are going to make the silk worm population of Britain go extinct.

"Silk worm population of Britain? The only silk worms in Britain are the ones who work at Worldwide Butterflies (http: ), which is, of course, part of the Malfoy family holdings." Draco corrected her.

Hermione kept talking. "Exactly. You've enslaved them! And how did you even know about the internet to link to their website? You don't use computers. And it's S.W.E.A.T.S. Not 'Sweats.' It stands for Silk-Worm Enslavers Are Too Spoiled. Our mission is to get you to wear synthetic sweats for all your nighttime activities from now on so that your silk worms can get a well-deserved vacation. Two sickles to join!"

"Granger, you are out of your mind," observed Draco, as he gracefully swept out of the room, plowing through a crowd of screaming fangirls trying to touch his sexy self, clutching ripped-up pajama tops in their hands, to go down to the Great Hall for breakfast. _When that girl gets something in her head...Next thing she'll be starting a crusade to save the cacao trees from being made into all that chocolate Professor Lupin eats... _


	2. Chapter 2: SLIP

S.W.E.A.T.S., chapter 2:

S.L.I.P.

Later that morning, Hermione was walking to Professor Remus John Lupin's office, holding a ten-foot parchment neatly folded in her hand. She wore a button that touted S.W.E.A.T.S., her new organization to achieve vacation time for the Malfoy silk worms, proudly on her school robes.

At breakfast, she attempted to explain S.W.E.A.T.S. to Harry and Ron—unsuccessfully, to say the least. _Honestly_, she thought as she walked / A/N: multi-talented, that one/_those two should have a bit more social consciousness. It's like living with neanderthals sometimes, the way those two just snicker and grunt and roll their eyes whenever I'm trying to make the world a better place. How can they_ not _care about something so_ important _as this!_

Hermione had tried to explain how giving silk-worms a vacation could create better financial security for Britain. That if the Malfoys continued to enslave them and work them too hard, they could die out, causing a strain on the economy by drastically increasing the amount import traffic in Britain's ports and making their silk products increase in price. And that if the Malfoys had to start showing concern for their silk-worms, then maybe they would become nicer people, and turn against Voldemort and, more importantly, treat their house elves better, too.

_And Malfoy would be dressed more decently in our common room_.

She had tried to make Harry understand this (except for the part about Malfoy's pajamas), but he seemed to think she was just becoming an over-analytic tree hugger. _What does he know, anyway._ She'd told him he was being very rude and insensitive, and stormed off in a huff to hide in the library and finish up an extra-credit assignment for Professor Lupin.

_Of course he's insensitive. He wasn't raised to have socio-economic awareness. Honestly, the Dursleys never let him out of the cupboard long enough to even realize there was an outside world,_ she thought as she arrived at Professor Lupin's office door. She knocked loudly, so it could be heard over the swing music she could hear inside the room.

"Entrez!" Came a voice from inside.

Hermione opened the door slowly, and was met by a strange scene—well, strange for anyone else that is.

Professor Lupin's office suited him perfectly. It was well-lit, spare but neat, except for all the books lining the walls. She supposed his teacher's salary was quite good for him to afford all of them. She'd taken peeks at the titles before, whenever she'd dropped off extra credit assignments like she was today. He loved muggle literature, and she had been especially surprised to see all of Jane Austen's works prominently displayed on the shelves (beside a picture of Lily Evans Potter in a frame of **Moon Petals).** But then, he'd always seemed like a romantic.

Currently, he was standing beside his well-organized desk, stroking a large chocolate dog on a pedestal with his gentle, nimble hands. He wore a beret and a red scarf around his neck—which was a new for him. He never seemed much for fashion, always having to wear patched robes and ratty shoes. Tears fall from his amber eyes into his glass of Jack Daniels.

"Professor Lupin?"

Lupin started, even though he'd heard her knock, and quickly turned from his chocolate art and hid his Jack behind his back. Hermione noticed that his mustached-lip has quivering a bit and that his amber eyes shone brightly, as if he'd been crying. _He_ _must be getting drunk over Sirius again,_ she thought_. Poor little werewolf_.

Lupin, however, pulled himself together to greet Hermione. He turned to switch off the phonograph so they could converse more comfortably, then came around to the front of his desk, setting down his glass behind him deftly. "Ah! Bonjour, madesmoiselle! Comment ça va?"

"Er- I'm fine professor. I came to give you my extra-credit essay." _What is with the riddikulus French accent?_ she wondered silently. But Professor Lupin was not a man she normally questioned, as she had much respect for him, despite his being a Beast.

"Oui, très bien. Donnez-moi le parchment, s'il vous plait."

"Excuse me sir? I don't understand. Why are you speaking in French?"

Lupin chuckled under his breath and leaned forward to pat her chocolate-brown, curly hair. "Well, ma chère, they say that the name "Lupin' sounds French, oui, so obviously I'm French! That ees why I speak with zees outrageous ac_cent_, you silly fille! Hmph! Zees ees quite logical." And for some very strange reason, Lupin started whacking his head with his hands...

"Oh. I see."_What in Merlin's name? Who are 'they' anyway? Is it like the invisible hand that keeps changing Blaise's gender? His name isn't French, surely he must know this. 'Loup'—with an 'o'—is French for wolf. Oh well, he seems so upset, I'll not disagree with him_. "Well, here's that essay you requested for your DADA class. I found that if a werewolf and a metamorphmagus mate, they get pink cubs for babies. They sound pretty cute. Fascinating, really, I mean—"

"Thank you, Miss Granger, that will do." Lupin hastily dropped his "French" persona and took the parchment nervously from Hermione's hand, glancing over it with his oh-so-lyncanthropic amber eyes. "Yes, excellent work as usual. Not to change the subject, but how is Professor Tonks handling the Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

_Funny, he looks a bit sheepish asking me that. It's cute, really_.

/Confused!HP fans: but I thought you just said Remus was the DADA prof.../

/A/N: So I did. So I did. (grins academically) /

"Oh, Tonks—er—iProfessor/i Tonks is doing a wonderful job!" Hermione answered, quite wisely of course. Lupin grinned shyly as she continued, "It's so much better to have her here teaching us Defense than having her out there catching Death Eaters!"

It was true, the students loved having Tonks—Professor Tonks—for a teacher. She was quite lively in class, and always entertained them with funny faces if they finished up early. Quite educational.

"Excellent!" Lupin eyed her warily for a moment with his sorrowful amber eyes, then smoothly pulled out his wand and aimed it toward her face, mumbling something about Tonks and love...

/ Crazy!HP fans: I knew it! I knew Lupin was evil/

"Obliviate!"

Hermione was very dazed for a moment. She clutched the back of a wooden chair as she regained herself. "Professor? I'm very sorry, but I can't remember why I'm here."

Lupin grinned and turned back to his desk, which had neatly stacked papers, a Hewlett-Packard ™ computer, and an iron with pushpins stuck into it. "Oh that's fine, Miss Granger. Not to worry. Here, have some chocolate. It will make you feel better." Professor Lupin proceeded to timidly hand Hermione a Hershey's ™ bar. She took it thankfully—she'd been so mad at Harry and Ron at breakfast that she had barely eaten. _This is really why I do all the extra-credit for Professor Lupin_, She giggled to herself. "I was just about to give you your next DADA extra-credit assignment," Lupin continued. "I'd like you to do a comprehensive aesthetic analysis of iL.H.O.O.Q./i by Marcel Duchamp and a summary of its reception history."

"Oh, the Mona Lisa with a mustache?"

"Yes, of course. How about, oh, 1,000 inches of parchment?"

"Is that all professor? I'll give you 2,000." _He has no idea how easy this is for me, _Hermione chuckled to herself.

"Very well, then."

* * *

At this point, Peter Pettigrew bursts into the office and cruelly rearranges Lupin's Jane Austen books, cackling evilly.

* * *

Hermione's head shot up and she gasped. _Lupin's favorite books! Oh no!_ "Professor, isn't that Peter Pettigrew?" She asked, pointing toward the shelves with one hand, her other covering her gaping mouth.

"Who? I know no Peter Pettigrew," Lupin said without interest as he leaned against his desk, poring over a ten-foot-long parchment that had pictures of furry pink cubs.

_What? Of course he knew him! What kind of trick is he trying to pull? And what is that he's looking at?_ "Wormtail? The traitor? The one who got Harry's parents killed?" Hermione pressed, holding her hands out in a pleading gesture.

"Hmmm... sounds familiar." Lupin looked up and out the window, losing himself in thought for a moment, pondering moral relativism in all its weightiness. He was fiddling with his red scarf while he thought very siriusly. "But I assure you, I'd never associate with a person as awful as that person you're describing. My Wolfey-sense would see through him straight away," he said as he looked at her and tapped his index finger on his nose.

"Your Wolfey-sense? Sir?" _He's sounding more and more like a certaincomic-book character_...

"Yes, dear. I have remarkably intensified senses from being a werewolf. Makes up for the pain and the prejudice, I assure you. I can spot out a traitor a mile away, and I can smell that you get very excited about extra homework," he said, obviously very satisfied with himself.

Hermione was flabbergasted. And looked very pretty while she was at it! "But sir, doesn't Newt Scamander say on page 42, first paragraph, lines 1 to 2 of Fantastic Beasts and Where to find Them, Published by Obscurus Books at 18a Diagaon Alley, London say that werewolves are 'otherwise sane and normal' when they're not in wolf form?"

"You forgot to capitalize 'Find,' Hermione."

"Oh no!" Hermione promptly forgot her very-important point over this grievous error in citation.

* * *

Meanwhile, Peter Pettigrew not-so-stealthily sneaks behind Lupin's desk and knocks over the portrait of Francis Picabia and scatters Lupin's artful DADA syllabus all over the floor.

/ A/N: the syllabus makes much more sense now/

"No one expects the Rodent Inquisition!" Peter squeals, holding his hands up in the air in a touchdown gesture, then creeps out the room quite ratfully.

* * *

"What was that?" Lupin asked. He turned around and saw his papers on the floor. He looked confused and a bit miffed as he began to pick them up, tipping over his Jack-and-Tears in the process. He growled at the alcoholic mess of artistic inanity.

Hermione thought it best not to push the professor any more since he obviously refused to admit he knew Pettigrew and was getting a bit vicious over the mess. He was a very tidy person, after all. Messes were highly insulting to him. Hermione supposed that it was him trying to exert control over what he could in his life.

"I have no idea what that was. Perhaps a gush of wind," she lied, noticing his windows were closed. Apparently, Lupin thought nothing of this. "Well I need to get to Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor Tonks now. Thanks for the new DADA assignment, Professor Lupin!" She said as she backed away from the werewolf.

/ Bewildered!readers: but... but... DADA...and Defense... /

/ A/N: Be quiet and read some art history. http/ soon as Hermione turned to leave the DADA office, Lupin put his syllabus back into a neat pile on the desk, then burst into tears and turned to hug his large chocolate dog on a pedestal.

While Hermione walked down the corridor toward Defense Against the Dark Arts class, she looked down at her S.W.E.A.T.S. button. _Oh, rats. I forgot to ask Professor Lupin if he would be willing to join S.W.E.A.T.S. Well, maybe another time. He did seem a bit preoccupied today. Alright, the French thing was actually downright strange. I wonder if there are lycanthropic side-effects to a werewolf's sanity that haven't been studied? Hey, there's an idea: The Stop Lycanthropic Insanity Project. Hmmm_..., Hermione pondered her next political movement.

**Suddenly, and without warning**, an arrow whizzed by her head.

"SQUEEE!" Shouted Hermione, but in a rather erudite way (seeing as how she _is_ the cleverest witch of her age), turning around to see a beautiful, tall, blonde wood elf with a bow and arrows coming her way.

"Hello, I'm Legolas, Prince of the Wood Elves," he said.

"Why did you nearly kill me with an arrow?" screamed Hermione.

Then she noticed how tall and beautiful this strange being who seemed to be from another universe all together was. And all of a sudden,

/ Hermione morphs into Fangirl!Hermione and suddenly forgets how much she hates talking about hair and makeup. /

"Did Lucius Malfoy do your hair, because those long, blond braids are really intricate!"

Legolas chuckled. "Actually, I taught him all he knows about being beautiful. Anyway, I was shooting arrows to impress girls. Chicks like guys with bow-hunting skills."

/ Hermione drools /

"Well, nice to meet you, fair maiden. I need to get back to the Department of Riddikulus Crossovers now!"

Hermione is drowning in the drool

After standing in a puddle for an hour and completely missing class (which is a very, very bad example for the Head Girl to set, by the way), she morphed out of Fangirl!Hermione mode.

_Well, that was a very DADA sort of happening. He was completely out of place,_ she thought.


	3. Chapter 3: SNAP

Chapter 3: S.N.A.P.

Once Hermione swam out of her Legols-induceddrool-pool, she realized she'd missed Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and headed toward the Great Hall for lunch with a sigh. She was feeling quite upset with herself for missing a class and setting such a bad example.

_And we were going to discuss how to kill immortal Dark Lords today. I was really looking forward to that_.

While she walked down the staircase, she saw Ron leaning nonchalantly against the wall on one of the landings. He was talking to Lavender Brown, running his hand through his hair, rumpling it up. She could hear Lavender saying something about a **Strawberry Tart**. _She is such a flirt_! _Surely anyone could see through that. Well, no, maybe not Ron_. Hermione called to Ron, and when he looked up at her, hid face lit up and his blue eyes sparkled.

/ A/N: I'd high;y recommend checking out this page if you want to know about Strawberry Tarts and such things... ;) http/ /

"Hi, 'Mione!" he said as he ran his hand through his hair some more and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Ronald! You know I hate being called that!" Hermione huffed as she reached the landing, putting her hands on her hips.

Ron reached up to rumple her chocolate curls. "Ah, you know you love it. It's a term of endearment really."

"What? _'Mione? _It's a brutalization of a perfectly nice name. What if I called you..." _Um, how does one shorten Ron any further?_ She stopped her tirade, unable to argue the pointany more.

Lavender giggled at them and rolled her eyes. "Well, Ron, about, what we were talking about, you know _I_ believe you. I know how brave you are." She batted her eyes at him then walked away without acknowledging Hermione at all.

"Ron, were you griping about your line again?"

"What? No!" Ron answered, blushing deeply.

"Yes you were. You're forever going on about how I got to jump in front of Harry in the Shrieking Shack third year and say that Sirius would have to kill us before he could kill Harry. You're still mad at me for taking the line from you, admit it!"

"Yeah, well... Look, I looked like a bleeding coward, clutching a mangy rat and blubbering the whole time!"

"Well, you were bleeding."

"Thanks, Herms. 'Why can't we follow the butterflies?' Crying about my broken wand with my voice breaking. Now this—I hate how they make me look in these things!"

"Ron, you'll have to get over it. And _don't_ call me 'Herms'!"

"Aw, I guess you're right. Come on 'Mia. Lets go eat. I'm starving!" He turned toward the Great Hall and Hermione followed, trying to think of a way to make Ron understand that she ihates/i being called "'Mione" or "Herms" or "Mia" and wondering where all the food he eats actually _goes_, seeing as how he never seemed to gain weight.

When they reached the Entrance Hall, Hermione spotted Dumbledore walking toward them, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Ah, Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, how are you both doing today?" He reached up to ruffle Ron's head and gave him an almost wistful look. "Sherbert lemon? Or perhaps a starlight mint?" he asked, while rummaging in his pockets.

"Er—We're—er—fine, professor. And no thanks. But thanks." Ron stammered, seemingly uncertain about this familiar gesture from the headmaster. "Just heading to lunch, sir."

"Of course, of course. I'm sure it will be excellent today, as always. Good day," he said. Before he moved past them, he looked at Ron with intensity. Hermione wondered if he was performing Legilimency on Ron. He then brushed past them, reaching up to straighten Ron's collar before entering the hall.

"He's been acting weird lately, hasn't he?" Ron asked, tugging his newly-straightened collar.

"Yes," Hermione answered. "He seems to act, almost like you're his little brother, doesn't he? He doesn't even treat Harry like that. Well, let's go get lunch, Ron."

"Alright Hermione. That is a great idea."

"Great idea?" Hermione looked at Ron quizzically. "It's not like it's a new plan—that's what we were going to do anyway."

"Whatever."

Hermione brushed past Ron to enter the Great Hall. As soon as she entered the room, she felt a pair of eyes on her, boring into her. _Ouch! I hate when Draco does that! It always leaves bruises,_ she thought as she rubbed her shoulder.

She turned, and, sure enough, Draco was staring at her with his silvery eyes. She was relieved to see that Blaise, who was sitting next to him, was back to his normal, gorgeo—dark-haired and male self.

/ Fangirls Anonymous: drool and bicker amongst themselves /

She shot Draco a scathing look then started to march toward the Gryffindor table. Up at the staff table, she could see Dumbledore watching their—well, Ron's progress through the room. _Why is he always paying attention to Ron these days_ she wondered, but her attention was turned to the woman sitting two seats down from Dumbledore. It was the school's new secretary, Danni Jo Davis. She was a pretty woman, looking to be in her twenties. She also had an unfortunate (well, unfortunate for her at least) habit of sitting next to Professor Snape at meals. She was rubbing Snape's forearm and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. She didn't seem to mind though...

Hermione arrived at the Gryffindor table with Ron and found seats across from Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, and Colin Creevey, both in sixth year. Ginny was currently working on smashing a **Chocolate Orange** into its pieces and sitting on her knee-length red hair with pretty golden highlights.

"Hey Ginny," Colin said. "I have some more thoughts for that Harry **Fan Club** I thought we could start." Colin reached over to grab his bag, brushing Neville Longbottom's hand in the process.

Neville jumped back from Colin. "What are you going on about?"

"Relax, Neville," Ginny said, munching on a **Chocolate Orange** Slice. "He's just distracted by his **Scarred Obsession**."

Neville sniffed and scooted away from Colin. Ginny rolled her eyes at the two boys and aimed a bat-bogey hex at them. They both proceeded to swat at the little flapping bogeys.

Dean Thomas walked up to the table then, and handed a parchment to Ginny.

"Look, Gin, I drew you that **Artist's Flame** you liked so much."

Ginny took the parchment to examine, and thanked him, then proceeded to smear **Chocolate Orange** juice over the picture. "Now it's a tasty picture too!" She exclaimed, aiming a bat-bogey hex at Dean across the table but hugging the painting to herself. Dean stumbled backwards from the force of the hex, and grabbing out with his hands. He only was able to reach Hermione's **Muggle Studies** book, though, and it crashed down to the floor with him.

"Oh Dean, are you alright?" Lavender gasped. "You know, I saw your future in Divination Class today: you had **Grims and Goalie**s in your forecast."

"Aw Lavender, you don't really believe all that do you?" Seamus Finnegan asked her with a moan. "That's all **Kicks and Giggles**, isn't it Dean? But wait, you passed your Divination O.W.L. with **Flying Colors**, didn't you Lav?"

Lavender blushed at his recognition, then turned to Neville and proceeded to tell him that she thought Trevor was a Prophetic **Toad** and that she'd love to come up and meet him sometime.

Hermione's attention suddenly was drawn from the seemingly random conversation at the Gryffindor table back to the staff table. Professor Lupin had just approached the table. Professor Trelawny, who, for some strange reason had decided to start joining the rest of the school for meals just this semester (Hogwarts had started using a semester system this year instead of three terms, naturally), was pulling the chair next to hers out, looking at Lupin with **Moonlit Eyes**. Lupin appeared befuddled at this action, and hastily retreated to the far end of the table, sitting down next to Professor Tonks, who had glaring lime-green hair today. Lupin blushed furiously as he sat down next to the Defense professor.

Hermione turned to her plate, and began to eat her shepherd's pie. Seeing Professor Lupin reminded her of S.L.I.P., her new crusade to help research Lycanthropic Insanity. _Maybe_ _I should tell Ron about S.L.I.P. He might be interested if it involves Lupin_.

"So, Ron, do you think Professor Lupin has been acting strangely at all?"

Ron looked up at Hermione, bits of shepherd's pie dribbling from his lips. "I dunno," he said as he licked his lips. "Why?" He then started serving himself a second portion. Hermione was amazed at how fast he'd inhaled his food. She'd only had time for a couple bites.

"Well, I think he's been acting a bit unstable. He seems to think he's French all of a sudden." She looked back at Lupin. He was building a replica of the Eiffel Tower out of french (freedom!) fries. Tonks was fingering his red scarf.

"mmmph—" Ron mumbled something as he shovelled a ginormous spoonful of shepherd's pie into his mouth. He gulped it down, then turned to Hermione again. "Think its because of Sirius? Hes his best friend. 'Course hes' a bit sad over it. He's' lost all those friend's over the year's. How would you feel after loosing me?"

"Ron, _honestly_, you need to study up on your punctuation. The apostrophe is used for possession, not plurals. And 'its' is possessive, whilst 'it's' is a contraction of 'it is.'"

Ginny appeared to have overheard this bit of the conversation and chimed in. "Yeah, and I think you meant to say 'lose' and not 'loose.' Trust me, Hermione doesn't want to 'loose' you." She giggled, and threw a bat-bogey hex at him to teach him a lesson about how _sirius_ his grammatical errors were.

"Over—reacting—ouch!—a—Ginny! Why'd you do that?—wouldn't you say?" Ron struggled to say as he fought of the bat-bogeys. They started flapping in his shepherd's pie and made quite the mess.

"Look the point is of all this is that I wonder if being a werewolf is hazardous to Professor Lupin's mental health. I'm going to start S.L.I.P. now too, Stop the Lycanthropic Insanity, to promote research into Lycanthropic psychology."

/ Lupin Fans:Here are our two sickles! We want to help Remus! Remus is Hot! Remus Survives/

/ A/N: I was wondering when you'd show up/

"Psycho-what? What are you on about this time, 'Mione? Can't you just leave things alone?" Ron pleaded. "It's too much work!"

"Fine," Hermione snuffed. "And I'm going to start another new club. It'll be S.N.A.P. Stupid Nicknames Are Preposterous. And I _expect_ you to be secretary!" Hermione practically shivered with anger and poked her finger into Ron's chest. Ron scooted away slowly, afraid. Very afraid.

As lunch was winding down, Dumbledore stood up. "Attention, students. I am happy to announce that this year, Hogwarts will hold its first annual Halloween Ball. It will, of course be on Halloween night, and everyone third year and up may attend. As this weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend, I would suggest that you spend it shopping for your costumes—there will be a prize for the most creatively outfitted couple. Thank you."

Immediately, all the girls in the room grew excited and began to blush and giggle amongst themselves. The boys, however, took a collective gulp. All the boys but Draco, who looked cool and suave as ever, smirking from beneath his gorgeous mane of silvery hair.

Hermione noticed Neville, recovered from the bat-bogey hex, glance over at Ginny, who was still sucking another **Chocolate Orange** slice, and whisper, "It's a **SIGN**!" Then he blushed and turned back to his own shepherd's pie.

Colin also looked at Ginny expectantly, as she still concentrated on her **Chocolate Orange**, but got some of her knee-length hair caught up in her bite. Continuing to gaze at her, Colin reached over the table, presumably to grab some salt for his shepherd's pie. Unfortunately, he knocked Seamus' pumpkin juice over into his lap.

"Hey!" Seamus shouted. "What was that for? Keep away from me **Lucky Charms**, Colin!"

"Seamus, be quiet!" Ginny reprimanded, shooting a bat-bogey hex at him. Seamus started waving his hands in front of his face. "Come on Gin! Why do you always have to shoot off this hex at everyone? Can't you learn the **Flaxen and Flame** curse instead?" He asked, a shy smile coming to his face behind all the flapping bogeys.

"Nope. I like this hex. None other will do." Ginny answered.

Ron growled while munching on his shepherd's pie. He seemed unhappy about the prospect of another Ball. "Whys he got to have another one?" He said between bites. "It's absurd." _Gulp_. "Waste of the school's money." _Slurp_.

"_Honestly_, Ron. Can't you have a little school spirit? And etiquette?" Hermione nagged. Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione, apparently still annoyed at S.N.A.P., so Ginny got him with another bat-bogey hex, apparently the only thingshe knew how to do other than worship her **Chocolate Orange**.

Hermione had known about the Ball in advance, but had had to keep it a secret. As Head Girl, she was in charge of the decorations. She'd already made plans with several of the female prefects to set up rows of lavishly-dressed scarecrows, to hire fall fairies to sprinkle fairy dust over all the dancers, and make jack-o-lanterns to float near the ceiling. She wondered if she'd be asked to the dance—it would be embarrassing indeed if the Head Girl didn't get a date. Maybe she could ask Harry herself—_Merlin knows how he hates to take the initiative in these sorts of things._

/ Harmony Shippers: Go girl! Oooh, what will they dress as? Hermione can straighten her hair, and Harry can wear some really nice— /

_And he's under so much stress as it is, he'd be better off just going with a friend_.

/ A/N: runs away from Harmony shippers trying to give her the smack-down /

Hermione then noticed that Harry wasn't at the table. "Where is Harry? Is he off feeling sorry for himself again? I'd better go find him."

Ginny, who is very good with Magical Healing, and takes classes in it even though they're not offered at all, just like Hermione's DADA class is, hands Hermione a small vial and a dart.

"It's a tranquilizer. You'll need it if you're going to go find Harry. He's probably blowing things up in the Room of Requirement again." Ginny said, shifting back into past tense. "Just dip the tip of the dart into the vial to get it wet, then throw it at Harry. And here's some body armour—don't want him accidentally hexing you, and here's a Semi-Permanent Protego charm." Ginny waved her wand at Hermione, shifting forward in her seat a little, pulling her long red hair and knocking her off-balance into Lee Jordan's **Crimson Dreadlocks**. Lee was still at Hogwarts because everyone liked him so much. "It will automatically repel any spell Harry throws your way."

"How come I've never heard of that charm?"

"Well, I thought of it just now."

"Sounds really helpful! We could really use something like this..."

"Don't worry. We'll all conveniently forget it exists when we have our obligatory fight with Voldemort and his minions at the end of the year."

"You said V-Voldemort."

"Yeah, well, it's shorter than You-Know-Who."

"No it's not."

"Shut up Hermione. It's easier to type, obviously," she explained as she started to work on her last **Chocolate Orange** slice.

Hermione, now suited up and prepared for battle, left to find Harry.


	4. Chapter 4: OPINE

Chapter 4: Free Harry or O.P.I.N.E.

Here's an excerpt from Chapter 4 of S.W.E.A.T.S.:

* * *

"Harry, I'm sure it's not all that bad. So, you're prophesied to have to kill the Dark Lord. Big deal. Honestly, how many other kids your age have bigger problems than that?" Hermione asked sensibly.

"Oh really? Do you _really_ know what it's like to be me? All these crazy fan authors have really warped minds... I've had to learn to fly a dragon, dress like a girl for a pageant, wear very uncomfortable leather, which may have been better than the time I wore _nothing_ to play Quidditch, and oh yeah, once I had to pretend to love you to make Ron jealous—you think _that_ was easy? And speaking of love, I've had to fall in love and break up with Ginny, Luna, Cho, Lavender, Padma, Pansy, Parvati, Millicent, _and_ the Giant Squid! You know how I hate to swim in that lake after the fourth task! I had to switch bodies with both Draco Malfoy and Snape, which was extremely unpleasant; trust me—you do _not_ want the details, especially considering that I had been adopted by Snape in a different story. And that doesn't count the times I was _actually_ turned into a girl. I had to beg on bended knee to stay a summer with McGonagall. I was locked in a bathroom with Ginny once, while I was wearing only a towel, for crying out loud—do you know how embarrassing that was? And I've had to kiss all these girls I'd never met before: Maria Susie, Marietta Suzette, Marianna Susanne, Marie Susan... oh, the list goes on and on! And you wonder why I'm upset?"

"Yeah well, that's nothing. They made me kiss Snape. Talk about being traumatized." Hermione countered, suddenly feeling the need to retch, remembering those yellowed teeth... Harry, however, obliged and got sick enough for the both of them.

* * *

For anyone who's read this far, first of all, I cemmend you; second, I advise you to commit yourself; third, you can fnd the rest of this chapter (and subsequent ones as they are posted) on my LiveJournal: http/ Due to layout issues, I'll be posting properly-laid-out versions there from now on. ('Sorry for any inconvenience this may have caused.') 


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